


not in the words, but the spaces between

by TooSel



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Muteness, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27877837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooSel/pseuds/TooSel
Summary: Harvey loses his voice. Good thing Mike still understands him perfectly.
Relationships: Mike Ross/Harvey Specter
Comments: 24
Kudos: 242





	not in the words, but the spaces between

No one knows how it happened.

One day, Harvey goes home with a quick goodbye and a witty joke on his lips, and the next day he wakes up, having lost the ability to speak.

Mike hears about it from Donna, since, well, he can’t exactly _hear_ about it from Harvey, but it only adds to the surrealism of what she’s telling him that he can’t confirm it for himself.

It should have been a clue when he came into the office and Harvey wasn’t there. It should have been a clue when he still hadn’t showed up after lunch. It should have been a clue when Donna breezed past him without another glance, looking like she had approximately twenty things on her mind at once, but really, nothing in the world could have prepared him for this.

“Mike, I need you for a minute,” Donna tells him the next time their paths cross, sounding so off that he drops everything and follows her at once.

“What’s wrong?” he asks as soon as the door closes behind him.

“It’s Harvey,” she says, exhaling deeply. “He- lost his voice.”

It’s such an unexpected, nonsensical statement that Mike can only blink in response.

“He what?”

“He can’t speak,” she explains, pinching her lips. “Look, I don’t know how or why it happened. Neither does he. He just woke up and… couldn’t talk anymore.”

Mike frowns, shaking his head. “Are you serious? His vocal cords just… stopped working. How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. He’s at the doctor’s right now, but from what I’m gathering it looks like this might be a permanent problem.”

Frowning, Mike tries to process that, tries to imagine Harvey without a voice, without those stupid little jokes he thinks are so funny or the movie quotes he loves to throw at him. Without the weapon he wields so expertly in court or with clients, that makes him the outstanding lawyer everyone knows him to be.

It’s damn near impossible, and the picture it paints isn’t one Mike particularly wants to examine. Instinctively, he understands that the full extent of this is nothing he can grasp just yet, but the look on Donna’s face tells him that none of them can afford the luxury of looking the other way right now.

This is real. It’s happening. And if this really is a long-term problem, then Harvey is going to need all the support he can get. Starting this moment.

“What do you need me to do?”

Donna gives him an extensive list of cases to take over and clients to handle, and he just nods and rearranges his schedule in his head, saying goodbye to his plans for an early night in.

It’s probably for the best. Something to keep him occupied is just what he needs, though that doesn’t really stop his thoughts from wandering back to Harvey even as he works his way through what amounts to twice his usual caseload. He hasn’t heard from him, which is fair enough – he has other things to worry about right now – but he still itches to talk to him, to assert the situation for himself.

To make sure he’s alright.

He thinks about giving him a call before realizing why that isn’t exactly the smartest idea. Texting him is always an option, but it seems so impersonal, and he doubts Harvey is in the right headspace for a chat anyway.

Besides, there’s a lot you can hide while texting. Even if he did respond, some letters on a screen wouldn’t be nearly enough to disperse Mike’s worries.

They only get worse when, the next day, Harvey isn’t in either. Not that he expected him to be, but it’s still a letdown, an unpleasant reminder that he didn’t actually dream up the events of the day before.

Donna thankfully puts him out of his misery and gives him an update after lunch, though it’s not the good news Mike was hoping for.

Harvey still can’t talk.

The doctors can’t explain what caused the sudden muteness, and they can’t promise it’s ever going to go away. There is nothing for them to treat, nowhere to focus their efforts on.

Harvey is perfectly healthy. He just seems to have lost his voice somehow.

They plan on running more tests, checking in regularly over the upcoming weeks, but Donna looks like she’s thinking the same thing Mike is. It’s a drop in the bucket. There’s no point in waiting for something that even the doctors don’t believe will ever happen.

He’s going to have to live with this.

And evidently, he’s determined to do just that.

Harvey returns to the office the following day, which makes sense because there’s nothing really wrong with him and this is Harvey, who rumor has it has never taken a sick day since he started at the firm before this week, but it still startles Mike for some reason. He returns with a frown on his face that deepens every time someone is a little too nice to him and a grim determination that stops most people from falling into that particular trap (which is probably for the best for everyone involved), but otherwise looks the same.

Mike gets out of his chair as soon as he sees him, following him before he can signal him to do so. Once they’re in his office he closes the door, watching him carefully.

“So, uh. You’re back. How are you doing?”

Strong opening. Harvey gives him a look that tells him exactly what he thinks of the question, which Mike can’t exactly blame him for.

“Right,” he says. Still, the sight cheers him up a little. He can’t be suffering too much if he still looks at him like that.

Harvey rolls his eyes. He sits down and grabs a piece of paper, then starts writing. Mike shifts his weight while he waits for him to finish, then steps forward once he holds it out to him with a hint of impatience.

_Bring me the files for our merger asap, Johnson’s coming in at nine. For the time being I’ll write down what I need you to do or text you, so keep your phone on you at all times. And yes, I’m fine. Don’t even think about mollycoddling me or you’re fired._

Mike snorts at the last part.

“Duly noted. I’ll get you those files in a minute. Just… I mean, do you want me to stay for that meeting and- handle it? I’ve got nothing else on. Nothing that I couldn’t push back, that is.”

Harvey glares at him, snatching the paper out of his hands.

_What did I JUST say?_

Mike huffs. “You didn’t _say_ anything, if we’re being technical, but okay. Message received. You’re just gonna… write everything down for him too? That’s gonna be a long ass meeting.”

Returning the reproachful look Harvey gives him, he just shrugs. If he doesn’t want any help, that’s his decision.

And Mike gets it. He does. He just doesn’t think Harvey is being entirely realistic about this, but that’s for him to figure out.

“Might want to switch to typing,” he suggests on his way out. “Much faster, you know.”

He’s sure Harvey would have called out a devastating response under different circumstances. He only realizes now how much he’ll miss those.

Getting to see him with his own eyes and make sure he’s alright, save for the minor obstacle of not being able to talk, does ease his worries a little, though he can’t help but wonder just _how_ alright he really is.

Harvey soldiers on because that’s what he does, but he doesn’t acknowledge the situation any more than he absolutely has to. He carries a notebook or his phone with him everywhere, adjusting to the new form of communication only because he has no other choice.

It works well enough in some cases. In others… not so much.

Every interaction at the office turns into a hardship, taking much longer than it would have if he could just say what he wants and costing twice as much effort on top of it. But that’s nothing compared to interacting with clients.

He gets through it in one way or another, but Mike can see the frustration leaking from him after an hour-long meeting so clearly that he feels it in his own bones.

The longer it goes on, the less Mike can convince himself to leave it alone. It _is_ a lot to ask of him to sit in the bullpen and stop thinking about it when Harvey is just down the hall, suffering through yet another meeting in, well, silence. He can’t help it, he just keeps thinking about him, never quite managing to shut down the voice in his head that worries about him.

Harvey would hate that, if he knew.

Mike kind of hates it too, if only because he hates that there’s a reason to worry about Harvey in the first place. That he can’t do more to help him.

But he can do _something_. And he’ll be damned if he lets Harvey’s stubbornness get in the way.

He lasts about a week before striding into his office and announcing, “Your supplements case. I want in on it.”

It’s just one of many Harvey is handling right now, but it’s the one taking up most of his time (and costing him most of his nerves), and Mike figures that if he can worm his way into this one, it’s a good stepping stone to the others. Harvey just needs to let him help once, to establish precedence, and then it’ll be easier to convince him to do it again.

Harvey narrows his eyes at him, probably weighing whether he’s asking because the case is good (it is) or because he doesn’t think he can handle it (he does, he just thinks he shouldn’t have to).

 _You have other cases to worry about_ , he types into an empty document and turns his laptop around.

“Yeah, so?” Mike shrugs. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t give a shit about my other cases. And I’m not asking you to let me do this because I think you’re in over your head, but because I genuinely believe we could work a lot more efficiently if we did it together. I’m your associate, remember? That means that first and foremost, I’m here for you. I’m also your friend, and _that_ means I’ve got your back no matter what. So let me have your back, Harvey.”

Harvey frowns at him. His fingers hover over the keys before he types, _I can do this on my own_.

Mike rolls his eyes.

“Obviously you can, no one’s arguing with that. You know what _I_ can do? Eat a family size pizza in thirty minutes. Doesn’t mean I _should_ do it. And yes, I am speaking from experience. Don’t ask.”

Harvey lifts an amused eyebrow, which he considers progress. After another long look, he lets out a deep breath and types, _Read the files. We’ll work on it together. As partners_.

Mike just gives him a look when he takes the time out of his day to underline the last word, stifling the relieved smile that’s threatening to take over his face.

It’s the first step in the right direction.

To say that Harvey lets him help with the case would be an overstatement, but he lets him in on it, and he even lets him do the talking after they settle on an approach together.

He lets him in on the next case, and another one after that. He doesn’t let him in on all of them, stubbornly holding on to some misguided sense of having to do at least part of his work alone, but the tension in his shoulders eases a little over time, and that’s all that matters.

What also matters is the fact that it’s always Mike he goes to when he needs something, no one else, no questions asked. It shouldn’t matter, but it does.

It matters a lot to Mike.

He’s careful to hide his satisfaction, the validation it gives him, reminding himself that he practically forced this on Harvey and it’s only natural for him to fall back on that. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

It probably doesn’t. It still matters, though.

Another week passes, and the dust settles as much as it’s going to. They have a running system now, with Harvey doing most of the work in written form while Mike takes care of the talking. It may not be smooth, but it’s working.

Though Mike privately thinks that it could work even better than it does already. He knows Harvey still gets frustrated, knows he hates not being able to cut in right away when something doesn’t go according to plan, not because he thinks Mike can’t handle it but because they were always at their best together. And if he’s honest, Mike kind of misses that too. They do work together behind the scenes, yes, but in the heat of the moment, a fast-paced deposition, some argument with opposing counsel where no one pays attention whether he’s typing something or not, much less waits for him to finish, Harvey inevitably has to take a back seat.

There’s got to be some way to fix that.

“I’ve been thinking,” Mike begins as he strides into his office the following day, shutting the door behind him. “You can’t speak.”

Harvey looks up, lifting an eyebrow.

“Yes, I know. Stellar observation. Save it. What I’m trying to say is, there are other ways of doing that than just using your vocal cords, you know?”

Harvey seems unimpressed by his observation, pointedly tapping his phone like he thinks Mike might actually be slow in the head.

“God, don’t give me such a hard time. I’m getting there. So I don’t really know why we didn’t think of this before, but… sign language.”

Harvey’s expression tells him very clearly that he _did_ think about it and decided not to pursue it. Which is fair enough, if he thought about it in terms of being the only one going to the trouble, which wouldn’t exactly get him anywhere.

Luckily, Mike is a fast learner, and he’s willing to put his brain to good use.

“I know it may seem like a lot of effort, but think about it. We both know the way we’re doing things right now isn’t the most efficient. But if you learned sign language, say, ASL – and I did too, obviously – we’d be able to communicate much faster, you wouldn’t have to depend on your phone or laptop all the time, and there are other people who know ASL too. Maybe some of our clients do, too. You wouldn’t even need me to do the translating then.”

Harvey listens with his eyes narrowed, crossing his arms. Mike doesn’t know if it’s a sign of defense or thoughtfulness, so he adds, “Look, we’ll have to start thinking about this as a long-term situation eventually, so we might as well do it right now. This is a long-term solution, and a good one at that. And if you do get your voice back at some point, you’ll have a cool new skill to impress people with on top of that. What’s not to love?”

Harvey looks like the answer is _a lot_. He just keeps staring at him, then averts his eyes and gets back to work without a word – well, a written one. A few seconds pass before Mike realizes that this is all he’s getting from him on the matter.

He decides to take that as a yes.

During his lunch break, Mike goes out to buy a few books and DVDs, itching to dive right into it. Once he makes it home, he spends the better part of the night acquainting himself with the basics and then works through the rest of it quickly, finding that it’s actually fun.

Come Monday, he brings it all into the office and drops it on Harvey’s desk, raising his eyebrows in challenge when he scowls at the selection.

“It’s really not that hard, once you get into it,” Mike assures him, signing along to his words. Harvey’s eyes narrow.

“I don’t care how reluctant you are, this is happening,” he carries on, unfazed, making sure to speak a little slower so Harvey can keep up with the signs. “I have a pretty good understanding of how this works now, so I’m gonna leave these here and if you have any questions, you know where to find me.”

The reproachful look Harvey graces him with has long stopped impressing him, and he knows it’s at least partially for show when he sees his eyes catching on his hands, watching him sign intently.

Arousing his attention, and hopefully his curiosity, is all he needed. He’s sure Harvey will take care of the rest for him.

Smirking, Mike turns around and leaves, though not before he sees him reach for the first book on the stack.

He doesn’t bring it up again for a few days, giving him time to get acquainted with the language, though he steadfastly keeps signing along to everything he tells him. It’s early the following week when they’re sitting in Harvey’s office after hours that Mike figures enough time has passed.

When Harvey holds his phone out to show him what he typed, Mike resolutely doesn’t look at it. Harvey scowls, but he just returns his look, lifting an eyebrow.

“Why don’t you tell me instead? _Really_ tell me.”

Harvey lowers his phone, glaring at him.

“Or are you not up for the job?” Mike inquires idly, knowing exactly what buttons he needs to push to get him to talk – or in this case, sign. Harvey may think himself a master of manipulation, but Mike has learned a thing or two working under him, and he knows all his weak spots by now.

Harvey’s jaw twitches, giving him a clear idea of what he would have thrown at his head if he had the words for it. Mike takes a mental note to look up swear words in ASL when he gets home.

When it becomes evident that he isn’t going to let himself be stared down, Harvey puts his phone away with the greatest reluctance Mike has ever seen and starts signing. He does his best not to show how delighted he is, having half expected Harvey to walk out on him for this.

He is doing no more than the absolute minimum, granted, maybe because he can’t yet or because he doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but even so Mike gets the picture perfectly as he signs _tomorrow, you, files_ , and then spells out _m-e-r-g-e-r_ , which admittedly takes longer than if he had just written it down, but they’ve got time to memorize a few more legal terms.

This is a good start. It’s a great one, actually.

Holding back any praise threatening to slip out, knowing full well it’s not going to be appreciated, Mike just replies, “Yeah, I’ll go through them first thing in the morning. Should be on your desk by nine at the latest.”

He signs along, and Harvey’s glare doesn’t diminish as his eyes drop to his hands, but he’s following and that’s all Mike is asking for.

And thus a bumpy little routine is born.

Harvey lets him coax a few signs out of him repeatedly, despite the show of annoyance he puts on, and then a whole lot more after the weekend – Mike suspects he used the time to get ahead and, feeling more confident in his skills now, has less qualms about displaying them.

A few days in, Mike doesn’t have to coax him at all anymore. He only writes down what he doesn’t have the signs for, and Mike makes sure to remember all the terms to find the appropriate sign or come up with one if need be.

Harvey accepts the quick lessons he gives him every now and then with an unimpressed look, but he does accept them. And when he starts using signs Mike knows for a fact he didn’t teach him, he considers his job done.

*

The signing sticks.

Mike only gloats a little when he sees how well Harvey adjusts to it, how naturally the movements come to him after a while, how much easier it makes their lives.

Harvey still uses his phone or laptop to communicate sometimes, but that’s mostly when Mike isn’t around. Which is less and less often, because as stubborn as he is, even he has to admit that it’s just more practical that way. Especially now that they’ve both got the hang of ASL (Mike still has the upper hand, but Harvey isn’t exactly a slow learner either. He’s catching up).

They develop a habit of meeting Harvey’s clients together, though they’re really _their_ clients now. Mike has a handful of other cases on the side, but his main focus is working on Harvey’s with him, and he finds that he likes it that way.

He likes the signing, too. As unfamiliar as it was at first, as natural does it feel once he gets a bit of practice. Most of the time he doesn’t even think about doing it anymore, sometimes foregoing speech altogether now.

It’s stupid, but he kind of enjoys the fact that this is something for just them, a secret language no one else is part of. Anyone could learn it, sure, but so far no one else has bothered to – not surprising, since Mike is usually there to translate.

It might just be his imagination, but it feels strangely intimate, this kind of communication. The focus it requires, the quiet when everyone around them is so loud with their words, the gazes lingering on his hands and sometimes on his face too.

Maybe especially that last part. And, okay, maybe he gets a little fixated on that, but it’s not like he’s doing it on purpose.

Mike is long past the point of pretending that his feelings for Harvey are still anywhere near a platonic nature. He meant what he said, they _are_ friends, but from his side that’s only the beginning of things. He didn’t exactly plan on crushing on his boss, but, well, it’s Harvey he’s talking about here. He has a way of commanding nothing less than your utmost attention, and in Mike’s case that just happens to be a little more… romantic than he might expect.

This whole thing with his voice hasn’t been helping either.

It would be a lie to say he didn’t look to Harvey a lot before, but he has really become the center of his attention now. He’s around him all the time, and even when they’re apart sometimes, his thoughts always wander back to him before long.

Mike is in way too deep. And yet, even though it’s never going to lead anywhere except to his inevitable heartache, he can’t bring himself to do anything about it.

Harvey needs him right now. He may dispute the fact, but Mike knows better than that. He knows he’s relying on him, and there’s nothing he wants more than to prove himself worthy of that kind of trust, never mind the consequences.

Which don’t even look so bad from where he’s standing, really. They figured out a way of communicating that works for them. They have no trouble doing their cases. Even going to court for the first time isn’t an obstacle, since Mike is used to standing in as Harvey’s interpreter now, and the strategy they worked out beforehand is bulletproof. Harvey seems to think so too, because when they walk out of the courthouse after absolutely destroying opposing counsel, he actually grins.

It might be the first time since he stopped talking.

Mike couldn’t hide his own smile if he tried, but luckily he can put it down to their win rather than any feelings of a more tender nature, even if the butterflies in his stomach tell a different story.

It’s just so damn good to see Harvey happy again. Even better to think that, in a way, he’s responsible for putting that expression on his face. Not even Harvey can pretend to be opposed to the signing anymore, not when it has worked out this well for them.

That’s the one good thing to come out of this, he supposes. It’s not just professionally that they’ve gotten closer, it’s in a dozen other ways too. It’s the signing, and the long hours they spend at the office, and Harvey’s attention that mostly lies on him these days – though that’s not so different from how it used to be, really. It’s just that it feels that much more intense now. And even though that may be nothing but his overactive imagination, Mike kind of likes it.

He really likes it, actually.

He also likes how, even though they never make it official that Mike is exclusively working with Harvey now, everyone just assumes they’re a double package these days and acts accordingly. In time, even Mike forgets that they ever used to do their work differently, and as much as he’d like for Harvey to find his voice again, he can’t imagine going back to the way it was.

And Harvey, he thinks privately, seems to enjoy it too.

He never really tells him as much, not in so many words – or signs – but it’s still there, in the way he looks at him sometimes, in the way that he just lets him be there with him, _for_ him.

He doesn’t let anyone else do that. He doesn’t let anyone else in on his cases, use their voice for him, join in on the conversation when he’s signing with Mike. He doesn’t let anyone else stay late on the sofa in his office, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up, looking for all the world like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

And if he’s honest, glancing at him from the corner of his eye, seeing the front he puts up all day slipping just a little, just enough to see how much he allows himself to relax in his presence, Mike wouldn’t want to be anywhere else either.

He tries not to look at him too obviously, focusing on the file before him instead, and so he doesn’t notice that _Harvey_ is looking at him until he glances up and finds his eyes on him, unwavering even when he meets them.

The corner of his mouth lifts as he raises an eyebrow.

_Okay?_

Harvey nods, something playing on his lips that might just be a smile too.

 _I never thanked you,_ he signs.

Mike frowns. _For what? The case? It’s my job, you don’t have to thank me for that._

Harvey shakes his head. _Not the case. Everything. That definitely wasn’t your job, but you never once complained._

Mike blinks at him.

 _You went above and beyond what any employee would do_ , Harvey carries on, making him huff.

_I didn’t do it as your employee._

He may not have done it entirely as his friend either, but that’s a detail he doesn’t need to know.

Harvey only smiles, properly this time. _I know that. Still, I want you to know that I appreciate it. And I’m grateful for it._

Swallowing, Mike nods, hoping to god that the dim lights will conceal the flush in his cheeks.

_In that case, you’re very welcome._

He would do it all over again, twice if he had to, but it’s nice to see him acknowledge it nevertheless.

It’s quiet in the office, so quiet that Mike can hear the rustling of Harvey’s clothes as he signs. He wonders if they’re the only ones here anymore, but even if they’re not, this moment is only about them, no one else. It’s about being honest, about saying the things that matter, and Mike suddenly aches with everything going unspoken between them, with the need to voice it and the weight of knowing that he can’t.

Harvey seems to have no such qualms, his smile fading as he signs, _This hasn’t been an easy time for me. Knowing that I had your support helped. A lot._

Mike tears his eyes from his hands to find his eyes still on him, unmoving and earnest, filling him up with an emotion he couldn’t put into words if he tried.

_You’ll always have my support, Harvey. Whatever you need from me, you have it._

Part of him wants to say it out loud, but he doesn’t dare to, doesn’t dare disturb the tranquility that seems to wrap around them like a blanket in this quiet, secluded office up here in the sky. It doesn’t matter if they’re the only people left, if there’s anyone else still outside. All Mike can focus on is Harvey, everything else fading away as he looks at him, and there’s something in his eyes that makes him think that he’s forgotten all about the outside world too.

His smile returns at the use of his sign name, Mike’s joking suggestion of the sign for ‘captain’ having stuck somehow, and it softens when he replies, _I know. I appreciate that too._

Mike sucks in his lip, nodding once before he forces himself to break eye contact. He returns his gaze to the file before him, stifling a yawn as he leafs through it, stopping when Harvey puts a hand on his knee to get his attention and shakes his head.

_It’s late. Go home._

“I can finish this first. It’s not a problem.”

His voice is a little rough, which he hopes will be put down to disuse rather than emotion. Harvey just lifts an eyebrow.

 _Seriously. Go home. Get some rest_.

“Will _you_ go home?”

Harvey rolls his eyes fondly, but nods.

 _Alright. If you insist,_ Mike signs, then shuts the folder and puts it in his bag. _I’ll see you tomorrow?_

Harvey nods. _Good night, Mike._

He smiles at his sign name, the motion for _big brained_ that Harvey tends to do with a long-suffering expression, but does nevertheless.

_Good night._

On impulse, he puts a hand on his shoulder in passing, lingering briefly before he heads out. He’s not sure, but he thinks Harvey leaned into the touch just a little.

*

Harvey’s eyes are on him so often these days.

It makes perfect sense, given the fact they mostly communicate visually now, but sometimes he looks at him even when they aren’t signing.

He looks at him a lot.

Mike loves and hates it at the same time, loves being the center of his attention, being on the receiving end of that uncharacteristic softness in his eyes sometimes, but he hates that it doesn’t mean what he wants it to, what it means when _he_ looks at Harvey.

He does that a lot, too.

Even without those stolen glances, he’s been catching quite a few glimpses of Harvey lately that he never should have gotten, that make the mask slip just enough to show what’s really behind it.

Sometimes he wishes it didn’t, if only because it makes it that much harder to deal with his persistent feelings in private, but that never lasts long – Harvey, the real Harvey, genuine and without defenses, demands his attention like the proverbial flame demands that of the moth, and once he gives in to it, it’s impossible to look away. It’s addictive in the best possible way, and Mike has never been all that good at denying himself the pleasures he’s craving.

Harvey is like that too. Harvey is a whole lot of things though, which Mike is discovering more and more; vulnerable sometimes, and uncertain just like everyone else, and above all undeniably human.

Sometimes it breaks his heart a little just how human he actually is.

He doesn’t like to admit it, fights so hard to conceal the fact, but god, he’s so human, and he cares so goddamn much.

Mike has long learned to pick up on the signs, has figured out what’s really behind his actions and the harsh words he uses sometimes.

He knows he cares about others, about him too. He knows he cares that he lost his voice even though he never once acknowledged it, that one night when he told him he appreciated his support notwithstanding.

Mike knows Harvey tries to speak sometimes. If it’s because he just forgets that he can’t or because he wants to check if things didn’t go back to normal, he can’t begin to guess, but catching his lips moving silently when he thinks he’s not looking or when he lets out a huffing sound, trying to squeeze out something other than just air, still makes his heart contract.

It never works, and even though Mike can tell he gets more frustrated every time, he never stops trying.

He gets it. He tries to say something too sometimes, something he knows he can’t ever tell him. His fingers form the words without his consent every once in a while, moving when his back is to him or he isn’t looking. It’s so easy, just one sign, three fingers up expressing everything he couldn’t possibly say out loud and yet never, ever reaching him.

And even so, he never stops trying.

He wonders if his frustration about not being able to say it is the same kind of frustration Harvey feels when his voice betrays him, when he’s let down by his own body again and again.

It’s probably not. In fairness, Mike _could_ say it if he had the guts, if he didn’t think it might ruin everything. Harvey couldn’t say anything if his life depended on it.

It’s not the same, but it’s still ironic. How both of them are trying to say something they can’t, and how neither of them wants to admit to it.

*

Mike misses Harvey’s voice.

He never particularly appreciated it back when it surrounded him all the time, something he could kick himself for in hindsight, but he always liked it. He liked how it wrapped around his name, how it was so much softer than you’d think. He remembers it, makes himself recall the sound frequently, trying to hold on to it, hoping it’s not going to fade over time.

Half a year has passed since he heard it, and if he’d known it was the last time for this long, maybe ever… well, he would have hung on to Harvey’s every word even more than he already did. Even the really ridiculous ones, because in all honesty, he uses a lot of those.

Or he did. Signing to communicate is serving them just fine, but there are still things Harvey can’t quite bring across with his hands, and writing them down doesn’t always have the same effect either. Mike tries not to think of it as a part of Harvey that is just lost to the world now, lost to him, but, well. It’s kind of hard not to.

It’s not the only thing Mike is struggling with though, which doesn’t exactly make it better, but at least it takes his mind off the matter sometimes.

Being around Harvey is hard too. Actually, it’s the easiest thing in the world, but the increased proximity is doing nothing for the cool and collected image he’s going for when he’s with him.

It’s hard to meet Harvey’s eyes when he looks at him with that infuriating, stomach-sinking, heart-rate-accelerating tenderness. To not give everything he’s thinking away with a single glance. To stay firmly on this side of the line between friends and the unidentifiable mess he’s gotten himself into.

It’s damn near impossible.

Harvey is really testing him. He’s looking at him right now too, everyone else having long since gone home, and Mike once again asks himself how he always ends up in these situations and yet can’t for the life of him regret it.

His eyes snap to Harvey’s hand when he signs, _What’s the matter?_

The serene smile on his lips, laced with amusement, tells Mike that he knows he’s thinking his mind into a twist over something ridiculous.

Bet you don’t know just how ridiculous it is, Mike thinks to himself, then pauses to consider what would happen if he did.

Would he think it’s funny? Maybe, because he finds compliments for his looks and character in everything, and Mike succumbing to his charms would surely amuse him to some extent.

Still, he doesn’t think he’d laugh. He definitely wouldn’t be cruel about not reciprocating his feelings. Harvey is many things, but cruel isn’t one of them. He’d be nice about it, probably. Because he does care about Mike. He’d let him down firmly, but gently.

But what if he didn’t let him down?

It’s a scenario Mike likes to entertain sometimes despite the tinge of bitterness it brings with it when he remembers that it’s nothing but wishful thinking.

Though there _have_ been moments. They may have started on his side, yeah, but Harvey always went along with them. He sure as hell didn’t stop them.

Mike has never allowed himself to believe that it meant anything. He kept paying attention to it, cataloguing every instance, but he never went beyond that. Until now. Because now Harvey is looking at him like that, and it may not mean anything, but it may _do_ mean something, and if it does-

Well, that possibility is certainly worth entertaining.

He wouldn’t do it under any other circumstances. Wouldn’t even consider it, because the tiny chance that he isn’t kidding himself is just not worth the risk of losing Harvey over this.

But now it’s late. Now it’s just the two of them, and Harvey is looking at him like that and the butterflies it’s causing in his stomach are making him think dangerous things, making him hope for improbable twists in this story that was never meant to be a romance, and maybe he’s kidding himself, but there’s a feeling in his gut that there’s more to it than that.

And isn’t that worth looking into? Hasn’t he learned his lesson yet about time running out and not using his chances while he still can?

 _I’m just thinking_. He hesitates, then gathers his courage and adds, _About you._

_Me?_

Mike nods.

 _You would think those kind of thoughts would make you happier,_ Harvey signs with a teasing curve of his lips, but his eyes never leave his face, watching him closely.

Mike huffs out a laugh, then exhales deeply.

_I was thinking about the two of us, actually. If you really want to know._

Harvey raises his eyebrows. _Want to tell me what’s on your mind?_

 _I don’t know._ Pausing, he purses his lips and continues, _Can I ask you something too? Before I decide._

Harvey nods and signals him to go for it.

_Why did you let me do it? All of this. Working with you. Making you learn how to sign. I know you didn’t do it just because it was the right decision. You’re never so rational when your pride is concerned._

Harvey huffs at that, a toneless sound that makes Mike smile a little even as it leaves him yearning for the times when he could actually hear his laughter.

Instead of giving him a straightforward response, he asks, _What do you think?_

_I don’t know what to think. That’s why I’m asking._

Harvey purses his lips, then cocks his head, almost curious.

_Do you really want to know?_

Holding his gaze, Mike nods breathlessly.

He’s not sure, but he thinks Harvey looks unsure for a brief moment before he signs, _Because you’re you. And there isn’t much that I wouldn’t let you do, if you wanted it._

Blinking at him, Mike pauses, making sure he interpreted the signs right and didn’t get them mixed up. Harvey just returns his look quietly, waiting.

_How do you mean that?_

At the look he gives him, he almost laughs.

_I think you know._

He does. He just doesn’t know if _Harvey_ knows what he’s getting himself into.

_I’m not sure you understand what you’re saying with this. Because the things I want, I don’t think you want those too. I don’t think you want them with me._

It’s the most he has let on about what he feels for him. And Harvey doesn’t recoil in horror, doesn’t as much as flinch or even frown. He just keeps looking at him.

_What do you want?_

It’s that damn look in his eyes that gives Mike the courage to continue, spurring him on with this risky game they’re playing, making him bold. Bold enough to, for once, actually go for it and see what happens.

He feels every pronounced beat of his heart as he signs, _I could show you_.

A short, painfully charged moment passes before Harvey nods.

Swallowing, Mike rises, only noting with a small part of his brain how unsteady his feet are as he walks up to Harvey. The rest of him is entirely and undividedly focused on him.

Sinking down next to him on the sofa, perhaps a little closer than he would have otherwise, Mike signs, _Stop me anytime. We can just forget about this and go back to normal, okay? Nothing has to change_.

It’s bullshit; there is no coming back from this and they both know it. They went there, and now they’re gonna have to live with the consequences.

 _Maybe things should change_ , Harvey signs, his tongue darting out briefly as he looks at him. It’s all the invitation Mike needs.

 _Remember, you asked for this_ , he tells him, and when the corner of Harvey’s mouth lifts, he doesn’t waste any more time worrying and simply leans in to close the distance between them.

He _has_ always wondered what that expression would feel like against his lips, though this easily surpasses anything he could have come up with.

There isn’t a shred of hesitancy in the way Harvey kisses him, leaving no room for doubt that he’s sure about this, that he wants it too.

Looks like Mike’s gut was right about those looks after all.

Congratulating himself is going to have to wait though, because Harvey’s lips on his just feel too good not to dedicate his full attention to their warmth and softness, the devotion in the skilled slide of them against his own.

When they part eventually – much too soon for Mike’s tastes – he lingers in Harvey’s space before he draws back, meeting his eyes.

Harvey is smirking, but there’s an enticing flush in his cheeks that isn’t letting him get away with the cool and suave image he’s trying to project.

 _This is what you’ve been thinking about?_ he signs, and Mike huffs out a laugh, reaching for his hands on impulse to give them a squeeze before he nods.

“Part of it,” he agrees.

Harvey smiles.

_I think I’d really like to see the rest of it._

And Mike is more than happy to show it to him.

That night is just the start, the first of many kisses, of touches that are finally deliberate, with intent. Of saying what they really mean to say instead of dancing around it.

They get to know each other all over again, this time filling in the blanks they never got to before.

Mike discovers sides of Harvey he couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams. How soft he is in the private moments Mike yearned to have with him. How playful he can be when he doesn’t worry about anything else for one precious moment and focuses only on him, the crinkles around his eyes leaving him no choice but to kiss him until they’re both out of breath. How unbelievably irresistible he is when he’s trying to seduce him, and what a force of nature he is when he succeeds – not that he has to try very hard.

He finds that Harvey can tell him very well where he does and doesn’t want him, what exactly he’d like him to do and how much he’s enjoying it when he complies, even without his voice. He does kind of miss the noises he’s used to hearing during sex, the moans and the verbal encouragement, but he learns to hear it in the breathy sounds he lets out and the pattern of his breathing in time. There’s everything he could ask for and a whole lot more in that.

They talk, too. Really talk, filling pages and pages with their words or signing well into the night, their drinks all but forgotten next to them.

Mike can’t believe the things Harvey tells him sometimes, personal things, things that leave him almost unbearably vulnerable. He can’t believe the things he says in return either, the words coming so much easier than they ever did before.

He finally tells him what he wanted to say so many times and never dared to, says it in every way he can, out loud, with his hands, written into the skin on his back with his fingertips. It’s exhilarating to get it off his chest, but nothing could have prepared him for how it feels to have it said back to him, not just once but frequently; so frequently that he has no choice but to start believing it.

He never stops marveling at it, though. He doesn’t think he ever will, but that suits him just fine. It’s the single best thing that ever happened to him, after all. He thinks he’s allowed to be a little dumbstruck by that.

*

On the surface, everything stays the same. They still work together. They’re still a team, still kicking ass in the courtroom and delivering to their clients without fail, still putting everyone else at the firm to shame.

Beneath the surface, nothing does. Every single one of their interactions feels different now, tinged with a gentle affection that makes it hard to even breathe sometimes. He knows it’s not going to last, knows they’ll fight about one thing or another sooner rather than later – though their arguments have been kept to a minimum since Harvey stopped talking, ironically leading them to understand each other better than they did before. But right now, everything just feels… lighter somehow. Mike himself feels different, and Harvey is different too, finally admitting to what’s been growing between them having done them both a world of good.

It _is_ good. All of it. It’s not perfect, as things rarely are, but it’s about as close as it can get.

Or so Mike thinks.

He changes his mind rather thoroughly about two months after they get together. It’s a fairly ordinary Tuesday, all things considered. They had a meeting earlier that day, sitting in Harvey’s office afterwards to work on a new strategy side by side.

It’s quiet in the room, the bustling of the bullpen down the hall not quite reaching them, and Mike is so used to the silence that comes with Harvey’s presence these days that he immediately picks up on the sound when it comes.

It’s nothing solid, not tangible in any way, but it’s… different. Harvey is sighing a little, probably subconsciously more than anything, because he looks just as startled as Mike feels when his eyes snap up at the sound leaving his mouth.

It’s louder somehow, entirely accidental and not very telling, but it’s there. It happened. They both heard it.

“Was that-“ Mike cuts off, staring at him. “Can you do that again?”

Harvey swallows, clearing his throat before making a vague humming sound. His eyes grow wide, like he didn’t actually believe he could do it, and he sits up straighter as Mike does the same, his heart pounding.

Harvey doesn’t need to be prompted to try again. He hums a little more, encouraged to actually open his mouth when his vocal cords respond.

The first attempt to speak is a complete disaster, whatever he was trying to say nothing more than an unintelligible croaking, but he doesn’t give up so easily. Mike holds his breath as he listens to the sounds he lets out, waiting for something he barely dares to hope for.

It takes time, and it’s clearly costing him a world of effort, but eventually Harvey gets out what he wants to say, just a single word, but perhaps the most beautiful one he has ever heard.

“Mike.”

It sounds foreign and pained, but it’s undeniable, and Mike is on his feet in an instant, a startled laugh escaping him.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, Harvey. Your voice, it’s- you can talk again. You can _talk_.”

Harvey clears his throat again and swallows repeatedly, but his lips are stretching into a smile too, and the words seem to come a little easier when he speaks again, a full sentence this time.

“Thank god. I’ve been meaning to tell you for ages. That tie is atrocious.”

Unable to hold back another laugh, Mike asks, “ _That’_ s the first thing you’re gonna say to me?”

“Well, someone needed to do it.”

His voice is still rough, croaking from months and months of disuse, but he feels like it’s coming back to him more and more with every word, getting stronger by the second.

Shaking his head, Mike walks up to him to cup his face and kiss him square on the mouth, the glass walls around them be damned. If anyone hasn’t yet caught on that they’re seeing each other, this is their grand chance to be disabused.

Harvey chuckles against him, and the sound is so wonderful that he has to pull back, blinking at him in a daze.

“God, I missed hearing your voice so much. This is incredible, Harvey. You can actually talk. That’s- jesus, you should probably go and see your doctors.”

 _I will. Later,_ Harvey signs, then adds out loud, “But there’s something important I need to take care of first.”

“Alright,” Mike says, giving him an expectant look. “What is it?”

Harvey smiles. “Come here,” he asks.

Mike is still pretty close, but he inches even closer until he’s right in front of him, and Harvey gets up, pulling him in by the waist before he tells him, “I love you.”

His voice is strong and firm, leaving no room for hesitancy or doubt, and Mike would have deemed that the most beautiful sound he ever heard if Harvey hadn’t let out a startled laugh when he practically flings himself at him immediately afterwards.

There can’t be a better sound in the whole wide world than that.

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [this gifset](https://karlaosouzadaily.tumblr.com/post/129416110912/i-was-at-the-end-of-my-first-of-three-years-of) of Karla Souza’s Tedx Talk in which she talks about losing her voice for three months for no apparent reason some years ago, and the idea stuck with me ever since. As always, English isn’t my native language and I’ll be happy to correct any mistakes if you point them out to me. If you have any concrit, you liked it, or you just want to tell me something, comments are always appreciated! :)


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